The May Season
by Leroy J
Summary: The past is bloody for Clint. When a carbon copy of Natasha, who always totes around a novel under her arm, grows farther apart from him, they blame each other for a tragic past. He knew being a father would be hard, but without Natasha, it is brutal.


**Title: The May Season**

**Rating: T-ish?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or Clint, or anybody who shows up here. I especially do not own any classic literature mentioned briefly in this story. Everything belongs to the owners.**

**Summary: **The past is bloody for Clint. When a carbon copy of Natasha, who always totes around a novel under her arm, grows farther apart from him, they blame each other for a tragic past. He knew being a father would be hard, but without Natasha, it is brutal.

**Howdy! I know I'm bad. I'm sure a lot of you are upset that this isn't Wayfaring Stranger, or even any other story that's incomplete at the moment. I get ideas and I write them all down before they go away. I just have to tell you, I am in love with Clint. That's why this is happening. I put the characters I love the most through the worst pain. (giggles nervously)**

**Also, a little forewarning... I do get inside each of the character's heads. So don't get too flustered if it's Clint then all of a sudden more Tony. I wasn't sure whether to use the long breaks or just leave it. If you could tell me if breaks would be better when switching that'd be great.**

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_Hi, we're all friends here so friends always leave words and things to say when they're done reading. Trust me. _

**r&r? **

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**1**

A form tossed back in forth in the night. He groaned painfully in his sleep, the sheets soaked with sweat, and he was entangled in their hold. Clint Barton urged himself to wake, but he could not. So he dreamed.

"Daddy! Help me!" a little voice screeched. He needed to reach the voice.

Clint looked down at his legs and screamed when he noticed one was disturbingly broken, his flesh parting for his bone to peek through. He grabbed a pole nearby, trying to pull himself upright, but the lame leg dangled uselessly under him.

"I'm gonna come getcha, baby! Just keep yelling for me!" he winced and felt his intestines shrivel with pain. He held back the sick in his throat.

Blood was hanging from his eyelashes; there was so much of it. How much blood belonged to them? It made Clint terrified. He hopped down the hall as best he could. White spots flashed in his eyes, confusing his line of vision. Shaking his head, he blinked trying to focus.

"Sweetheart! Can you hear me?" Clint called his voice raspy. He was so afraid.

He heard her scream. He never heard anything so horrifying in his whole life. Out of all the moments in his being, this would be pegged as the most petrifying. He began to run as best he could, but he fell to the ground again howling in pain. The flames on the walls were growing bigger. The white spots on his eyes were bigger.

"No! I'm coming. I swear to you we're all getting out!" Clint bellowed. He wasn't sure if this was more of a promise to himself. Leaping up again, he hobbled as fast as he could, his mind swirling with the possible horrible things he might see. His adrenaline grew and he went along faster. He needed to reach the voice.

There was rubble, fallen wood, and flickering flame blocking him. He made his hand into a fist and swung it so his elbow would take the blow. Most of it went tumbling down to his feet. He blinked, his eyes burning with smoke, dust, and blood. He could see her nightdress. It was light green, or it was. His heart raced as he saw blood splattered on it.

"May!" it came out as a screech.

"Daddy!" her little voice was pleading.

He saw her little barefoot move. That was enough for him. He didn't want her to be barefoot with all of this stuff around. Clint burst through the remaining rubble and fell at the feet of his little daughter. Her blue eyes were wide with terror as the little girl crawled over to him and gently touched his bleeding face. The smoke was becoming nearly unbearable.

"Where's mommy, baby? Where's your mom?" his voice gave away the burning anxiety he felt. As for being trained to keep it cool in dangerous situations, he threw it all out of the window once his family became this involved.

The little girl's eyes began to water with tears, and drool quickly trickled down the corner of her mouth.

"They took mommy, they took her right there!" her bloody finger pointed to a dark red spot on the floor.

"Who!"

"The scary guys with pointy teeth," she crawled up closer to Clint and pulled on his wrist. "We have to get her back. C'mon daddy, we have to get her back now!"

Clint felt his throat go dry and breathing become impossible. He knew she was gone and his baby had seen her being taken. He stood up wearily again looking down at her small form. He could only see minor injuries on her. A cut on her chin, a cut in her left foot and a scrape on the knee. Clint swallowed hard because he knew Natasha would have thrown her body over their daughter's to keep her from getting the worst of it.

"We have to go, now," his voice was a dry sob.

"Daddy, but mommy was right there!" she shrieked at him.

Clint grabbed her by the tiny waist and threw her over his shoulder; she continued to scream as he made his way back to the exit. He limped in agony, his jeans were singed at the bottom and his feet were burned so badly he could barely feel them anymore.

He heard a voice, a familiar one and he yelled, "Steve, in here! Get May out!" There was a bursting of a wall and he saw his red, white, and blue friend. Clint heard a creaking over his head. Steve looked up too and dashed towards them, readiness on his face. Clint took hold of the crying child over his shoulder and tossed her outward away from harm. Then everything crashed down around him. He knew Steve would catch her, he had to hope so.

_A jolt_, then Clint Barton woke up screaming in his bed. The bed sheets were wrapped around his throat and he was gasping for air. His scalp felt damp with perspiration and his throat ached something horrid. He coughed trying to get that smoke out of his throat, out of his body, and out of his mind. Pulling himself free he got up and staggered out of his bed with his ears buzzing.

"Jesus Christ."

Walking into his bathroom, the lights automatically flickered on and he rushed to the toilet to be sick. Feeling pitiful as he wiped his mouth ferociously on a piece of toilet paper, Clint saw the face of his watch, telling him it was 4:30 am. His stomach dropped and he knew the relation of the time.

After rinsing his mouth with wash he went to his closet to pull on training clothes. His mind felt exhausted so he tried not to think about anything worthwhile.

When he reached the training room he seemed to awaken in seeing her, quietly sitting on a pile of mats just outside the door, her nose buried dutifully in a book.

Clint dropped his bag of equipment and her head flicked up so quickly. Her red curls gave a swish and it reminded him of her. He pointed to the book she held.

"Is that a new one or something? It's not that horrible _Canterbury Tales_ is it?" she frowned at him and stuck her bookmark in the page.

"No," she turned her head to look inside the gym before looking back at him. "You were screaming in your sleep again."

Clint swallowed and tasted the burning mouth wash. "Yeah, I was." He looked at her with stern eyes. He would rather not talk about it.

She backed off and set the book down, "Okay, whatever. Just so you know, dad, I have training at 5:30 this morning with Bear." She was telling him that he needed to be out of this area by that time, and he understood that. She never wanted him to watch her training sessions.

Clint raised his hand, "I'll be out by then. Scout's Honor."

"Okay," she looked up at him for one last time before opening the book again.

He inhaled, "Would you want to do some work with me for an hour?"

She mumbled, "No, thank you."

Clint couldn't say he was surprised by this outcome, but it still hurt him in a small way. He just wanted to keep her talking. "Are you gonna leave the floor before training?"

She sighed and looked up at him. He wondered if she was actually reading or using it as a way to ignore him. "Yeah, probably. Aunt Pepper told me to come up since she'll be awake. Oh, and Uncle Tony wanted to show me this really cool gadget I've been helping him with." She gave Clint an excited smile, "he painted it last night."

He gave her an encouraging smile. "That's great, kiddo."

May nodded her head and closed the book in her lap. She flew past him out of the room.

"Love you!" he called as she rushed out. He heard no answer so Clint whispered to himself, "Love you, too, dad."

He opened the door of the gym and inhaled the scent of cleaner and sweat. He was so condensed inside. Whenever he would step foot in a room where he could let it out, he tried his best to wear himself down to the last ounce. Clint felt things he couldn't handle; things he didn't like thinking about. There were too many of them. So he began taking them out on obstacles and bags.

May Barton held _The Great Gatsby_ book in her grasp as she rode the elevator up. Her mind wandered to Jay Gatsby and how a man with so much could feel as hollow as he did. She felt sorry for Gatsby every time she read it and the ending always broke her down.

The elevator stopped and she stepped out onto the chic and clean floor of Tony Stark's living quarters. She walked into Pepper's office, wondering if she was already working on something. Instead, she saw somebody else.

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" May wondered aloud as she watched Tony tap keys and push buttons on Pepper's equipment.

"Wow, hey, Maybee. I'm just…" Tony trailed off when he glanced up.

Maybee was a nickname her Uncle Tony gave her when she was little.

"She doesn't know you're in here, does she?" she leaned against the door smiling smugly.

Tony looked at her and his guilty face faltered. He seemed to be thinking back on something. It was a memory. As soon as it was there it was gone once he heard the click of heels down the hall.

A strawberry blonde peeked into the room. She placed a hand on May's shoulder and gently patted it.

"So, May, what do you think your Uncle Tony is doing in my office on my computers?" There was only silly wonder in her voice, nothing too incriminating. May always liked Pepper and Tony.

May laughed and shrugged, "Don't know, but he's caught in the act."

Tony winked at them both and lifted his hands into the air like a suspect. "Alright, you caught me. I've done what I needed to do so you might as well take me away."

After a light breakfast with Tony and Pepper, May followed Tony to his lab. She always felt proud whenever she was allowed access. It was such a secret thing, but to her in many ways, it was just her Uncle Tony's man cave.

"You know what that one really weird thing gets me about you Maybee?" Tony turned around to catch a glance at her.

May shrugged, "oh, there's a lot of weird things associated with me." She pointed to Tony and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled in response as he turned around.

"Not talking about _us, _the superhero brigade. I'm talking about that fact that you're a sixteen year old girl who goes to sleep at midnight and then wakes up at five a.m. nearly every morning. It's nuts. And it's definitely not healthy for teenagers."

May looked down. "Yeah, I don't know. I told you before, I just don't need to sleep that much." She pulled herself onto a metal stool. "Besides, when did Uncle Tony become concerned for my health?"

Tony pulled out the screwdriver he was using and pointed it at her. "Hey, just because I stash all of the sugary, yucky foods you kids eat on my floor doesn't mean I don't care about your health. It's healthy to have junk in you every once in a while."

May held her book out and gently touched Tony's arc reactor with the binding. She gave a sad smile, "I guess you would know about the junk in a person, huh?"

His face mellowed and became more serious. The screwdriver was twirling slowly in his grasp. May shrugged when Tony gently took the book from her. He flipped through a couple of pages and glanced up a few times. He opened his mouth and began reading, _"Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known."_

Tony waited for a change in May, anything.

"That's a great line."

"Too bad honesty isn't too big around here—but yes, that's an incredible line."

"Is there something about your dad that you want to talk about?"

"You aren't really the talking type, Uncle Tony."

"I can be when I want to."

May inhaled, "Same thing different day."

"You're too young to know what that means."

"It means _same thing, just a different day_."

May reached out for her book, her face stern. Tony placed it back in her hand, but not before folding that page with a dog-ear. He patted her shoulder and gained her attention.

"Maybe one day you'll read that again a little differently." Tony looked down at his fancy watch and murmured, "5:25."

May hopped off the stool with ease and began walking out of the lab. Her hand hovering on the glass door, she took a glance back and then quickly left.

Tony watched until she was gone. She really did a lot of the things Natasha used to do. It made him miss the older redheaded spy. It also made him a little solemn. The girl was a reminder of Natasha and sometimes, Tony knew, it was hard for Clint to look at his own daughter. He remembered thinking after the accident that it was a wondrous thing that the girl had Clint's eye color. Tony figured that if the girl's eyes were green, Clint would never be able to look at May clearly again.

He took a deep breath. "JARVIS?"

"_Yes, sir?_"

"I want you to do something for me."

"_I was wondering when you were going to say that._"

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_END CHAPTER 1_

**JARVIS**, please give my friends fancy champagne and cookies after they've reviewed. That'd be lovely, don't you think?

_"Yes, I think you're quite right about that, ma'am."_

Oh, JARVIS, please don't call me ma'am. I'm in college._  
_

"_Oh, alright. As the ma'am said, kindly leave words for 'college girl' to read and all the cookies and champagne will be yours."_

_**He's toying with me clearly. I talk to JARVIS in my free time.. we text?**_

_**You know what to do. See you soon.**_

(and again that quote was from _Gatsby _and can be found on Ch. 3) because I didn't write it and I know that.


End file.
